The sharp ring of her phone pulled Lena from a restless sleep. Groggy, she fumbled across her nightstand and finally grabbed it, squinting at the screen in confusion.
Ethan Calloway.
For a moment, she simply stared, her mind slow to catch up, until instinct made her swipe to answer.
"Hello?" she mumbled, her voice still thick with sleep.
"Morning, sleepyhead," Ethan's voice came through the line, warm and low, instantly sending a strange flutter through her chest.
"I'm downstairs. Thought I'd see if you needed a ride to work this morning."
Lena jolted upright, wide awake now, heart stumbling over itself.
"You're... downstairs?" she repeated, blinking in disbelief as she glanced at the clock on her bedside table.
"Yeah," Ethan said, amusement threading through his voice, light and easy. "Take your time. I'm not in a rush."
"I—sorry, I just woke up," she stammered, feeling suddenly panicked at how unprepared she was.
"No problem," he said smoothly. "I'll wait. Go ahead and get ready."
Before she could overthink it, Lena tossed her phone onto the bed, practically leaping to her feet.
She rushed into the bathroom, the floor cold under her feet, her mind racing faster than her heart. Ethan Calloway was downstairs, waiting for her.
She splashed cold water on her face, brushed her teeth at record speed, and threw together a simple yet professional outfit—something smart but soft, something that made her feel a little more like herself.
By the time she made it outside, breathless from the rush, she spotted his car immediately—a sleek, dark sedan parked neatly by the curb. Ethan leaned casually against the driver's door, his posture relaxed, the morning breeze tousling his hair just enough to make him look effortlessly good.
As she approached, Lena found herself tightening her grip on her bag to hide the way her palms had gone clammy.
She slipped into the passenger seat quickly, pulling the door shut behind her, before turning to him with an apologetic look.
"Sorry," she said, cheeks already warming. "Did you wait long?"
Ethan's mouth quirked into that familiar, easy smile that always seemed to disarm her without even trying. "Nah," he said, starting the engine with a smooth flick of his wrist. "It's a man's duty to wait for a woman."
Her heart stumbled hard in her chest, the simple kindness of Ethan's words hitting deeper than it should have.
Before she could stop it, an old memory surfaced—Anthony, standing by the door, groaning loudly and tapping his foot if she took even a few extra minutes to get ready. The heavy sighs he thought she wouldn't notice. The muttered complaints under his breath, as if she were wasting his precious time.The way she always ended up rushing, apologizing, shrinking smaller, just to keep the peace.
A quiet weight settled over her chest.
And now, sitting here with Ethan—who waited without a single hint of impatience, who smiled and told her to take her time—the difference between the two men couldn't have been clearer.
"You really don't have to come pick me up," she said after a moment, her voice softer. Ethan glanced at her briefly, the edges of his smile softening into something more earnest.
"I'm wooing you, Lena," he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Picking you up is just one of the many things I'm willing to do."
The words hit her harder than she expected, and instantly, heat rushed to her cheeks. She whipped her gaze toward the window, pretending to be absorbed in the blur of passing streets, but she could feel the burn spreading across her face, betraying her.
Beside her, Ethan chuckled quietly, a sound low and warm, the kind that slid under her skin and stayed there.
"You blush easily," he teased, his voice dropping just enough to make her heart trip.
"I do not," Lena muttered defensively, clutching at her bag, but before she could retreat further, Ethan reached over, his fingers brushing lightly against hers where her hand rested nervously on her lap. When seeing Lena didn't pull away, he slid his hand fully over hers, his palm warm and steady, grounding her in a way she hadn't realized she needed.
Lena turned her head to glance at him, catching the slight, satisfied curve of his mouth as he watched the road ahead—but his thumb began tracing slow, absent circles over her knuckles. Her heart raced, but she didn't pull her hand away.
The drive to the office was smooth. Without saying much, Ethan turned the car into a drive-through café tucked neatly at the corner of the next block. He lowered the window, the smell of fresh coffee and warm pastries immediately spilling inside.
"What do you feel like?" he asked, glancing over at her.
Lena blinked, still a little dazed from everything that had happened so far this morning. "Uh... anything's fine," she said quickly.
Ethan ordered two sandwiches, two coffees—black for him, a latte for her—and pulled up to the window, exchanging a few quiet words with the cashier before handing over the payment.
As he took the bag from the attendant, he turned back to her, offering a small smile.
"Breakfast is important," he said easily, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to take care of her. "Even if you have to eat it at your desk."
Lena smiled softly, touched by the simple, unforced thoughtfulness. She glanced at the clock on the dashboard and realized she still had some time before she absolutely needed to be upstairs.
Impulsively, she spoke before she could second-guess herself.
"Actually... can I stay in the car and eat here with you?" she asked, her voice a little shy.
Ethan's hand froze halfway to opening his sandwich. His eyes flicked to hers, and for a heartbeat, he just stared—surprised, then quietly pleased. A warm smile slowly curved his lips.
"I'd like that," he said, voice low and steady.
He set the bag between them, carefully unwrapping her sandwich first, then holding it out to her like it was something precious.
Lena laughed under her breath and took it from him, their fingers brushing briefly.
This, she thought, biting into the warm, fresh sandwich, this she could get used to.
It was a simple thing—sharing breakfast in a parked car—but it filled a space inside her she hadn't even realized had been empty.
As she chewed the last few bites, distracted by how much more comfortable she felt with him than she had expected, she didn't notice the way a crumb clung stubbornly to the corner of her mouth.
Without a word, Ethan reached for a napkin, his movements slow and careful. He leaned in slightly and dabbed at the corner of her lips with a tenderness that made her freeze mid-chew, the air between them tightening.
Her breath caught, her face instantly heating up.
Anthony had never done anything like that. Never noticed the little things. Never cared enough to make her feel tended to in such a small, devastatingly gentle way.
Lena swallowed hard and ducked her head, pretending to fuss with her coffee cup just to hide the furious blush that rushed to her cheeks.
After she finished the last sip of her latte, Lena glanced at the time again, reluctant but realistic. She wiped her hands, tucked her trash neatly back into the bag, and turned to him.
"Thanks for the ride," she said softly, meaning far more than just the literal ride to work. "And... for breakfast."
Ethan met her gaze steadily. "Anytime, Lena."
She smiled, feeling lighter than she had in days. "Have a good day," she said, opening the door and stepping out into the morning sun.
Ethan stayed in the car, watching as Lena made her way toward the entrance of the building, her steps small and quick, her bag tucked against her side like a shield.
He hadn't expected her to ask to stay. A small, unthinking smile tugged at his lips as he leaned back, one hand on the wheel, the other tapping lightly against his leg.
He also hadn't expected the shy way she looked at him when he unwrapped her sandwich, or the soft pink that bloomed on her cheeks when he cleaned the corner of her mouth without thinking.
He could have sat there all morning if she asked him to. He would do it a hundred more times, a thousand more times, if it meant seeing her smile like that again—soft, real, unguarded.